


I've Got a Bad Idea

by Ellie_Jo



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Multi, v e r y au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2019-10-31 16:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17852711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie_Jo/pseuds/Ellie_Jo
Summary: One Night Stands don't always just last one night.





	1. September Birthdays, December Parties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Gilbert celebrates his September birthday in a New York nightclub in December.

Parties were a part of Elizabeth’s regular routine. As a New York socialite, and with a friend circle like hers, it was difficult not to get sucked into a vortex of social activities, even when the last thing one wanted to do was leave the safety of one’s bed. Tonight, though this was definitely not normal for her, Elizabeth very genuinely would have preferred to be tucked inside the downy warmth of her bed, accompanied only by the glow of Netflix and the occasional text from a favored sibling. 

But, tonight, her cousin Kitty and a sizable gaggle of Kitty’s friends had dragged her from the darkness and forced her to accompany them to a club in the city (allowing her to dress first, of course. None of them approved of her sushi pyjamas making their big debut into society), to celebrate someone’s birthday. Elizabeth wondered why she was taken along, insisting she didn’t even know the person they were celebrating and that it would be ridiculous for her to get all dressed up for nothing. But Kitty Livingston was persuasive, something most people were well aware of. She was hard to deny, and despite Elizabeth’s argumentativeness, she still found herself dipping into a little black Balmain dress and stilletos and carefully applying makeup appropriate for the plethora of posed and candid photos she would surely be appearing in that night before letting them stuff her in the backseat of a sleek three-row SUV.

“You can’t really be suggesting you would prefer to be inside all alone tonight, can you?” One of Kitty’s friends (one Elizabeth thought was more of a clout-chaser than a genuine friend) remarked when they were about halfway to the club. “You’re newly single and everybody knows it. It won’t look… good if you don’t go.” Everything this girl, who’s name escaped her, said seemed laced with a measure of venom. Elizabeth wondered who everyone was, wondered who was content to care whether Elizabeth stayed at home lamenting in her break up instead of pretending to have moved on already. 

Elizabeth simply glanced at the girl, false eyelashes heavy above her dark eyes. “I’m here, aren’t I?” She retorted, less content to falsify each phrase and more ready to say what she thought in the privacy of their car. 

The sudden pursing of the lips of a few of the other girls in the Uber Black they were piled into meant they would definitely gather later and read into any possible drama between the two. There was no drama. There never was with Elizabeth, though people liked to paint it otherwise. Even with her exes, none had any bad blood between them. Any feuds and rivalries sparked up by online blogs and in the gossip columns, any trending hashtags popping up in relation to her, was almost always an imagined slight. It was all anger someone else wanted her to have, but even when Elizabeth didn’t like someone, she didn’t resort to petty words. And just the same, she tried to make sure people who hated her didn’t stir anything up on their own, though sometimes that was harder to avoid. 

When you’re part of one of the most powerful families in New York, when you have half a million followers at least on any given social media, it’s hard to avoid being the topic of conversation or having people who want to tear you down or wreck your name. 

The girl who she’d been speaking to didn’t seem particularly miffed by her remark, anyways. Maybe surprised she’d responded in any sort of manner, but she seemed to hide any other feelings she may have had about it. So, Elizabeth shifted her attention over to Kitty. 

“Who’s birthday is this for, again?” 

Kitty, looking spectacular and tan in her yellow Miu Miu mini dress with its bejeweled straps and all her dark locks hanging impossibly straight down her back like she was the lost Kardashian, leaned a around the seat she was sitting in and smiled one of her all-knowing smiles. “A French guy, a descendant of royalty. His name is Gilbert,” Her cousin put too much enunciation on the pronunciation, batting her eyelashes. 

The blonde between Elizabeth and the girl who’d spoken to Elizabeth earlier beamed, “He’s like a modern day prince or something!” 

Val, a dark skinned beauty and the only friend of Kitty’s who Elizabeth actually knew, rolled her eyes. “His, like, great-great-great-great-great grandfather was a French marquis or something. I dunno, he’s on the Forbes list, but he’s literally been with the same girl since he was like, fuckin’ twelve, so I don’t bother with the other stuff. I’ve got no chance with him.”

“Right,” Kitty laughed, “But he’s totally important and basically royalty, and I’ve never met him but I want to know him.”

“I just wanna try and get a picture with a prince,” The blonde asserted, cozying back into her leather seat and focusing on whatever was on her phone. 

“He’s not a prince,” Val corrected again while she laughed. 

Before much longer, they were pulling to a stop in front of a nightclub that made its presence as the current happening spot known. The velvet ropes separating the public from celebrity guests and the massive security guards had drawn paparazzi from likely every major celebrity news source and each of the girls she’d come with quickly checked themselves in the rearview mirror before clamoring out of the car and wading through the flashing lights as graceful as ever. 

They were let in with little questions by the guards and were swallowed whole by the flashing blue lights and pounding music. 

Elizabeth saw a few people she knew and was almost immediately swept away from Kitty and Pals. She was embraced by another friend, complimented on her dress and makeup, and new she’d be featured on more than a few Snapchat stories tonight. After a frozen drink, she found herself enjoying the music a little more, talking a little more freely, letting men flirt with her a little more comfortably. But, Elizabeth wasn’t much of a drinker, so after the one icy sangria she turned instead to sipping on soda and focusing more on dancing and singing along with the top forty hits thumping over the conversations. 

“Lizzy,” A handsome young man Elizabeth knew threw his arm over her shoulders and pulled her into a half-hearted yet firm hug. 

With a laugh, Elizabeth looked him over once and eyed the glass in his hand. “Stephen Van R, you are not old enough to be drinking,” She teased. 

“Hey, it’s soda,” He argued, lifting the cup to his lips and finally dropping his arm from her shoulder. 

“Yeah, mixed with gin.” 

“I’m never in the city, Cuz,” He pouted, “Lemme enjoy it!” 

“Fine,” She patted his chest and started to push through the crowd again, “Just get a ride!” His thumbs up was the last she saw of the eighteen year old that night, though his snaps left her assured he’d be fine.

Soon enough, she was face to face with the man of the hour. 

Leaning close so she could hear him over the song he spoke, his accent thick and recognizable, “You are Eliza,” He pointed at her, the intent focus and slight swaying of his body giving away his distinct lack of sobriety. 

“I am, how’d you guess?” 

“Kitty,” He pointed into the crowd, and though she looked, she didn’t see her cousin. “She pointed you out to me, said I should say hi.” Gilbert bowed, “So, bonsoir, a pleasure. This,” He waved the hand he’d pointed with to the woman holding his hand, “Is my fiancée, Adrienne.” 

The woman turned and Elizabeth was actually surprised by her beauty, platinum hair thick and curled, and her Swarovski-covered dress clung perfectly to her form. “Hi,” The tiny woman smiled, and within moments the pair found themselves rather friendly with each other. Though Adrienne’s English wasn’t perfect, and Elizabeth hardly knew any French, they managed to talk through three songs, dance through one, and get plenty of pictures. Soon enough, though Elizabeth realized that those drinks were begging for release, so once again was she traversing the party on her own, making her way to the neon restrooms sign. 

After the quiet reprise of the restroom, that feeling of not wanting to be where she was reappeared. She’d so quickly got caught up in it that she’d forgotten why Kitty had dragged her out in the first place. But like all distractions, it was temporary. She settled onto a leather booth seat, staring absently at the notifications flooding her screen from tags and mentions from the people she didn’t have muted. 

She wondered what he was doing that night, whether his friends were trying to get his mind off of her the same way hers were. Maybe not - he’d dumped her, after all. Maybe he wasn’t mourning the way she was. Maybe there was already someone else - 

“Hey there,” A voice broke out just loud enough for her to hear in their proximity, drawing Elizabeth’s gaze upwards towards him. Eyes of the strangest shade of blue watched her from behind dark, lacy lashes. 

“Oh, ah, hi,” She offered a careful smile, and he seemed to pick up on her hesitance. 

“Sorry, you just, looked kinda sad.” 

“Wow, that obvious, huh?” Elizabeth laughed, leaning back against her seat. 

“Yeah, a little bit. You don’t like the party?”

“No! It’s not that, I’m just not really in a very good mood tonight,” 

“That’s a shame.” He offered her a charming smile, the sort that made Elizabeth wonder how often a smile like that got shown. “Can I get you a drink.”

“Sure,” She nodded, “Oh, but um, I’m just drinking soda.”

“Got it,” Another one of those crooked smiles, “I’m Alex, by the way.”

“Eliza.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I have no self restraint and I have very specific niche desires and they never get fulfilled. I'm so picky so I just write my own ff sksksksk sorry its a mess I just had an idea in my head and couldn't get it out. Whatever this is me time, I'm being selfish.   
> BUT if you liked this, feel free to leave a comment bc they make my heart feel all warm and fuzzy <3 <3 <3 <3


	2. Just One Night, Just One Time

She should have told him no. She shouldn’t have taken that drink, she shouldn’t have sat there and talked to him about nothing and everything in the suspended reality of the nightclub where time seemed to standstill. She definitely shouldn’t have been dancing so close, pressing back against him as they moved in unison with the music. She shouldn’t have liked his hands on her hips and waist and the way he looked at her with those strange blue eyes, half lidded and obviously lusty. 

But she did like it, she liked it very much, so much that she turned to face him, pressing ever so closer, and let him lean into her. She let him press his lips against hers, let him slide his hands over the small of her back and daringly close to the swell of her ass. This was not a normal occurrence, and if asked about it, Elizabeth would blame it on the alcohol and the vibe, on a lack of inhibitions (though, truthfully, neither had anything to do with it). 

She hadn’t been expected to get so swept up in his caresses, but she welcomed them gladly. Elizabeth welcomed any reprise from the pain of love lost. She welcomed the distraction, however selfish it may be. 

Yes, selfish was the word to describe what she was doing. Elizabeth didn’t know this young man, aside from his name being ‘Alex’ and his charm being palpable. He knew little else about her, so maybe they were both being selfish. They were both taking what they wanted from the other, both drinking in the parts they wanted to fill something within them. Elizabeth decided then and there that she would let him take from her whatever he wanted so long as he reciprocated. She would give him parts she’d never given anyone before - though she wouldn’t tell him that - so long as she kept this euphoric feeling instead of that dull empty ache. Anything was better than the bruise he had left on her heart when he took it and kept it safe for half a year just to stamp ‘Return to Sender’ on it in big block letters like it had been damaged when he’d gotten it. 

Alex wouldn’t do that, she thought, he wouldn’t get the chance. She wouldn’t give it to him.

So, when he led her to the bathroom, she let him, and when he hiked his hands up beneath the hem of her tight Balmain dress, she made no attempt to stop him. When he pushed her against the cold wall of a stall and asked in a hushed tone thick with desire, “Is this okay,” she breathed a “Yes,” in confirmation. When lacy panties were pushed aside and belts undone and searching hands found something wonderful between her thighs, she let little sighs of pleasure escape her. 

This was fine, she thought, at least for now. Giving herself to a stranger would be okay so long as they were safe, and they were, and it was just this one night. John had always told her to live a little, after all. He’d always thought she was so unadventurous, so boring and comfortable. And it was good - it was new, foreign, but it was a pleasant fullness. She didn’t hurt the way she’d been led to believe she would, in fact she thought she felt rather wonderful. 

That wonderful feeling was bubbling up, filling her toes and fingers with warmth as ecstacy blossomed from her core. Elizabeth grasped at him tighter, the length of her stilettos probably uncomfortable against his back. If they were, it didn’t seem to matter much to him. He pushed forward, their movements becoming more and more erratic until both were overflowing into the other and their ends were met. Pleasure swallowed them both whole in that stolen moment in the dark bathroom of the club, pop music flooding in from behind the door. 

When they had both come down from their high, Alex let Eliza find her footing on the ground again. It felt a little strange beneath her, her legs wobbling at the first touch, and she held his arm to get her balance while he adjusted his clothes quickly. 

Grounded, it was like reality flooded her again, and every ounce of solidity she’d had in her decisions escaped her just long enough for her to realize that, in her haze of desperation, she’d let a stranger fuck her in a public bathroom. This went against everything Elizabeth had ever believed, everything she’d ever done in her life had made her out to be the opposite of the type of girl that did that sort of thing (ridiculous as such ideas were). 

Alex kissed her again, and again Elizabeth let him. Once they parted that time, she leaned away from him. 

“I, um,” Her finger slid over the lock on the stall door. “I need to go… Thank you for tonight.” The door opened and she slipped past the metal barricade. “It was… fun.” 

“Eliza, wait-” 

She didn’t. 

She was out back on the dance floor, pushing through the crowd until she found Kitty. 

“Kitt,” Elizabeth took her cousins hand in hers, catching the older girl’s attention. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go?” Kitty pouted, “It’s only,” she brought her phone up so she could read the glowing time. “Oh, damn, maybe we should. Where is everybody else?” 

Scanning the dancefloor, Elizabeth worked quick to catch sight of the rest of her cousins friends. Like a mother, she gathered the drunken girls up. Once they were all together and a new Uber was ordered (and thank God none of them argued with her about it being time to leave) they shuffled out of the hot, flashing club and into the icy streets. 

It seemed surreal. The sudden change in scenery did wonders for sobering you up, chattering teeth as they huddled together in the dark to keep warm until the black SUV with the right plate number rolled up next to the curb. The window rolled down, and Elizabeth - always the mother in these situations - asked the driver his name and who he was picking up. Once she was assured he wasn’t a kidnapper (not that you can ever really be sure) she ushered the girls into the back and made sure all were accounted for. 

The drive home was quieter than the one to the club. Everyone was coming down from their high, exhausted and over-exposed. All were spent for the night, faces thick with the makeup they all desperately wanted to remove, feet aching in their stilettos. Designer never felt as good as it looked. Elizabeth certainly didn’t think they felt as good as her sushi pajamas and fuzzy socks. The strange aching emptiness between her legs was a feeling she figured she’d need to remedy. Maybe nurse the foreign feeling away with several bubble baths and glasses of wine. Or maybe she’d skip the wine and just down a bottle of Smirnoff. Surely that would have a quicker affect. 

Though, what was she trying to rid herself of? A thousand thoughts went through her head, recounting the feelings of her bathroom experience, mentally reliving the moments in her head. It was blissful, fantastic, which was surely to be credited to his talents, but it wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t the glorious union she’d expected from her first time. There’d been no candles, no roses, no wine. The sweet nothings whispered between them had been fillers, meaningless words spoken between strangers. It hadn’t been love making. It was nothing more than two rutting bodies in a bathroom stall. And sure, the ultra-progressive, super modern Elizabeth had no qualms with the freedom of sexuality. She’d never considered herself painfully conservative or a prude (though exes would beg to differ) but she had been saving that sweet surrender for someone who mattered. She had wanted to trust herself and her pleasures and her vulnerability with someone she could trust. What on earth had brought her to let herself be lifted up against a cold metal bathroom stall wall by a stranger who’s name she could only trust was the truth, and be fucked into oblivion? And then she’d what? Kissed him and high tailed it out of the club? 

She groaned, causing Kitty to give her a concerned look. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth dismissed her with a loose wave of her hand. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, ready to be back in my bed.” When the car pulled in front of her building, Elizabeth unbuckled and made sure all of her possessions were accounted for. “You staying the night at my house?” 

Kitty shook her head, “No, I have to make sure they make it back okay. But, I’ll see you tomorrow right? Or, well, later today, I guess,” One of those quiet laughs that seem to always follow those half-hearted jokes everyone made filled the short silence. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you then. Just call me so I can make sure I’m awake. Who knows how this’ll hit me once I lay down,” A laugh of her own. “Love you, Kit.”

“You too.”

And then the car was off again. The steady quiet of the city - if you could call it quiet, more an absence of conversation than any actual stillness of sound - swallowed up any more drunkenness she had. All that was left was exhaustion. The elevator ride up to her floor seemed to take years, mirrored walls showing her much more than she wanted to see. She was a mess, though not so much that anyone would suspect she’d gotten into anything other than brown liquor, and she couldn’t wait to take a makeup wipe to her face and discard the jewelry she wore before diving beneath her sheets and letting sleep swallow her whole. 

It was a little surprising that she didn’t run into anyone before she got to her unit. New York on a weekend was usually a bustling time for her building, but the absence of neighbors - though strange - wasn’t unwelcome. She didn’t feel like talking to any more rowdy, drunken youth or fending off the flirts of her thirsty building-mates. 

Inside her apartment, Elizabeth’s only company was a fish named Phil (named for her father who’d taken the thing from a friend that had moved overseas), and her television. She was okay with this, dropping two pellets into the bettas tank and curling up around her longtime beloved stuffed dog before putting on a random Netflix show to drown out the noises of the city below and drifting off into blessed sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so ?? i think this chapter is missing some chunks ??? i wrote it a while back and didn't upload it and now I cant remember why. i think there was a reason. it seems coherent but im pretty sure id intended to make it longer. but i feel bad that its been a month since i updated so here is the thing. 
> 
> more things to come super soon i hope, im just very busy and need to make money so this isn't my no. 1 priority :/// 
> 
> im also thinking about making a tumblr so i can connect with you guys if you want !! thoughts ?? 
> 
> anyways, sorry if this is weird im just very confused. i love you all lots, and comments, kudos, and questions are always welcome. 
> 
> i also have a ko-fi if you feel like donating to my cause, and i hope to upload some special things there even tho idk what exactly yet. but also dont donate to my ko-fi bc i dont like getting gifts bc im so bad at doing things and i dont wanna let any one down. ok ok ignore me, thank u for reading this far wow ur amazing. love u all :***


	3. ANNOUNCEMENT

Hey guys !!! Wanted to stop in real quick and and make a little announcement that I’ve made a tumblr !!! i wasn’t creative enough to make a good url lol but it exists, so you guys should come and follow me / talk to me !!! it’ll be a good way to keep in touch and ask questions, since im so bad at keeping a schedule here. Thank you!!!

(url : officialelliejo.tumblr.com )


	4. Angelica

Angelica Carter wasn’t usually in New York. She found the air too thick and smoggy and the streets too crowded. Elizabeth thought this was a load of bull, considering she lived in London with her husband, Jack, along with their only son. Elizabeth had been to London to visit and found the air no cleaner than New York’s. But Angelica insisted it simply wasn’t for her and that she doubted if she’d ever move back permanently. 

Still, she came to visit often. Bright and early the Saturday a week after Elizabeth had made the mistake she’d thought about all night, she was reminded her older sister was in fact in town when she was dragged from the safety and comfort of her bed and off to brunch. 

She looked homeless next to Angelica. Her sister had clearly gotten up at what she thought was a reasonable time and styled her long, dark hair carefully, dressing herself in a flowing sundress (despite the fact that it was January. Fashion doesn’t take snow days) and the most subtle a Cartier jewelry available to her. Elizabeth knew the outfit she wore so casually to a morning meal was worth at least ten grand. Ridiculous even if Eliza herself could have fashioned something similar. She knew too well the reasons why Jack Carter didn’t use his real name. Why she was told not to call Angelica “Mrs. Church”. But she also knew all about her sisters taste and how her husband could never deny her what she wanted. 

So, sitting next to Angelica in her glittering jewelry, Elizabeth looked like a charity case. Decked out in a concert tee she’d got her Freshman year of high school during her JB phase that didn’t quite fit around the breasts any more and a pair of over price Urban Outfitters boyfriend jeans, her annoyance with being out of the house at 9:30 in the morning for brunch (it was breakfast time - or bed time, but brunch?) was on clear display. 

Angelica was gleefully sipping a mimosa, chatting all about how quickly her young son was growing. He wasn’t even a full year old and he was already so smart! 

Elizabeth didn’t have the heart to remind her that he was behaving just as every sibling they’d helped raise had. Little Philip was a normal boy with normal behavior, but no, it was the English Air that was making his teeth grow. 

“So,” Angelica put talks of her prodigal son on the back burner. “How are you, what have you been up to? I saw you met Gilbert du Motier, how was that?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. He’s really nice. I’m friends with his wife on Snapchat. She lives a really interesting life, you know? And I went to their after party thing, even though it was really less of an after party and more of its own party.”

“Look at you, you little socialite. And how was that?”

How aggravating! Elizabeth loved her sister. Really, from the bottom of her heart. But Angelica hangs out with the prince of Wales and the Duchess of Devonshire one time and suddenly she’s royalty herself! 

“Well I was with Kitty so there was a lot of me putting Vaseline on countertops and the backs of toilets.” She replied her annoyance obvious. 

“What’s with you?” Her sisters face scrunched up. 

“Sorry,” Elizabeth apologized genuinely, “I’ve been… touchy all week.” 

“Why?” Angelica pushed.

Resting her hand in her cheek, “I did something bad, something stupid.” 

“What did you do.”

Elizabeth paused for a moment, wide eyes focused on something behind her sister. Confused and curious, Angelica waited for an explanation. 

“Him,” 

Looking behind her, Angelica tried to figure out who ‘him’ was. There weren't many men in the restaurant at all, and most were too far outside of Elizabeth’s tastes for Angelica to even consider it. “Who?”

She nodded in the vague direction of a man who stood by a table, dressed in the crisp white button up and khakis that all of the waiters wore. 

“Oh, he’s cute, you slept with him?” Angelica asked, seeming to forget the importance Elizabeth had always placed on her virginity before. 

“Shh!” Elizabeth warned, waving her hands frantically. “Yes! I did! We met at Gilbert’s party.”

“Oh?” Angelica’s interest was piqued. “Tell me more, tell me more.” Her sister leaned forward in her chair, one hand beneath her chin, the other lifting her champagne flute to her red painted lips. 

Begrudgingly, Elizabeth leaned back in her seat, trying not to stare after him. He looked different in this light, unclipped by her sobriety. She remembered his face well enough, the nose that seemed a little too long, the soft curve of his jaw, but his hair seemed much more red now than it had in the flashing lights of the club. She couldn’t see much of his face, but it was enough to know it was him and to feel some sort of terror creep up in her stomach. 

She slid further down in the chair, bringing the menu she’d yet to order from hide her blush from sight. “We met at Gilbert’s party. I’d been drinking and I still wasn’t over being dumped. He was there, we talked…”

“Did you take him to your flat? Did he take you to his?” If Elizabeth didn’t know Angelica so well she’d have thought her line of questioning was intrusive. It was intrusive, but she didn’t think it. 

“No.”

“Then… O.M.G… in the club?”

She groaned, wishing she could float away into the lavender whipped cream pictured in the tiny square on the laminated page of the menu. 

“A true Schuyler Scandal! You little harlot!” Angelica was laughing, “And fate does this? You can’t possibly ignore the ‘mystic implications’ of this!” 

She wanted to kick her sister under the table, but Angelica’s dramatics did lighten her dampened mood. As much as her sister annoyed her, she knew how to make a smile tug at her cheeks. That was, until Angelica performed the ultimate betrayal. 

“Excuse me?” Elizabeth heard her sisters lyrical voice call out before the tapping of the heels of someone’s shoes told her she’d called someone over. “What to you recommend? My sister doesn’t like brunch.”  
“Well, if you’re not a fan of breakfast foods, I suggest Croques Meurice, the least breakfast-type food we have with all the lightness wanted from brunch.” A familiar voice explained to her, though a menu still hid her face away. 

Angelica was nudging her knee beneath the table, and Elizabeth took the hint, sliding the menu down a little to reveal herself to him. “Could you just bring me a Screwdriver? Please?”

Alex was clearly trying to hide the thoughts that crossed his face, for who’s sake, she wasn’t sure. But he didn’t mention how she’d run away from him. In fact, he just nodded, asked if there was anything else, and took their orders to the kitchen. He wasn’t their original waiter, and it was the girl who had taken Angelica’s drink order earlier that had brought her Screwdriver out. 

She did catch Alex sneaking peeks at her every once in a while. Little glances which Elizabeth would return. Sometimes they were quick and awkward, one catching the other and quickly looking away. Other times they lingered, silence and a room between them. 

Her conversation, once Elizabeth got over chastising her for embarrassing them both that way, with Angelica was nice. Angelica lived an eccentric life, partying with princes and other royals in the nastier underbelly uncaptured by the cameras following them about polite society. Rules were only to be followed publically, and the strict set that royals seemed tethered to always dropped behind closed doors. Angelica always had the juiciest of drama to tell. Though only a year her senior, Angelica was living a drastically different life to her sister, and Elizabeth would only tut quietly in admonishment of her sister’s gossip, guiltlessly eating up her dramatic tales. 

As their time together at brunch wrapped up, Angelica called herself an Uber back to her flat, inviting Elizabeth back with her. She denied, instead asking to have dinner together later. Angelica left first, her sister having insisted on staying behind after the bill was paid to make sure she got into the right Uber and not a sketchy one with a kidnapper working midday. 

Elizabeth stood just outside of the restaurant, watching as the Lexus hauled her sister off. She’d barely turned the first corner when she heard the little bell as the door behind her opened. 

“Eliza,” Alex’s voice pulled her gaze from passing cars. “I want to talk to you.”  
Elizabeth turned her attention to him. “Now?”

“No, I don’t get off until after we close. Later, but, let me have your number?” 

She considered telling him no, or even giving him a fake number. But she had no good reason not to, not even that she just didn’t want to ever speak to him again. Though she’d panicked, and though avoiding the fact of their situation seemed easy enough, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from considering the idea of giving him the time of day. 

“Sure,” She offered a smile, taking the offered phone and entering each digit correctly before saving it under her most common nickname.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this seems odd or like it was wrapped up weirdly - i wrote it a while ago before my ~depression~ got the best of me and I wasn't able to write anything else. I just haven't had the energy to focus but I'm trying to get all of my uploads out <3 lots of love thank you for your patience and understanding.

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless plug but I have begun publishing my original work on wattpad. Check it out! https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/188646879-like-sugar


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